


Twenty Five Minutes

by Vandergaard



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-01-01 06:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18330212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vandergaard/pseuds/Vandergaard
Summary: Charity and Rhona have a long-overdue conversation.





	1. Twenty-five Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a brief conversation between Charity and Rhona off the back of Vanessa's comment from the 11th March episode about Charity volunteering to help Rhona. And then I started writing and it just... grew into whatever this is.

The moment that Rhona returns to the land of living, she’s aware of several things: she’s in a very uncomfortable position; her mouth is as dry as the Sahara; and everything hurts. Her eyes flutter open and she takes in her blurred surroundings. She’s sprawled on the couch, with a knitted blanket on top of her that she’s sure wasn’t there when she fell asleep. She moves her head slightly and sees a flash of blonde hair in the general direction of the arm chair. Vanessa? Vanessa! She must have arrived with Rhona’s painkillers while she was asleep.

Rhona blinks to try and clear her vision, and her elation turns to disappointment with the realisation that it’s not Vanessa at all. It’s Charity, sitting in the arm chair, with her head bowed, staring intently at her phone. Why the hell is she here?

Rhona starts pulling herself carefully into an upright position and Charity’s head snaps up in response to the movement.

“Finally she’s awake!” Charity announces sarcastically to no-one in particular.

“Where’s Vanessa?” Rhona asks in a voice that comes out far croakier than she’d expected.

In a second Charity’s at Rhona’s side, silently offering her a glass of water that the vet accepts gratefully. As she drinks, Rhona is aware of Charity focusing her gaze about a foot above Rhona’s head, avoiding eye contact. Rhona’s grateful because she can’t help but feel uncomfortable, Charity seeing her like this. It’s bad enough showing weakness in front of friends like Vanessa and Marlon, but Charity’s never been her friend or shown anything even approaching friendliness, so there’s an added awkwardness.

When Rhona’s drained the glass, she makes a move to place it back on the table, but Charity deftly takes it out of her hand with a casual “Careful. Wouldn’t want to burst a stitch”, and moves away, towards the kitchen.

“Where’s Vanessa?” asks Rhona again.

Charity shrugs carelessly as she pauses at the door. “Work. Got a meeting with the guy from Porterfield. Stables contract or summat.”

“I thought Paddy was handling that?”

“Ness said he had to go on a emergency callout,” she frowns. “A parrot in Demdyke or something. I dunno.” And then she’s gone.

Rhona can hear her in the kitchen, turning the tap on and off. She’s back in no time, a fresh glass of water in hand, which she places on a coaster on the side table.

“So, a parrot emergency?” Rhona says, just to say something.

Charity shrugs again. “I didn’t ask too many questions. Parrot fever I think.”

Charity’s acting like she’s trying to recall details from a conversation she hadn’t been listening to in the first place, but Rhona knows that Charity can remember every bloody word Vanessa has ever said to her. Charity never forgets anything where she’s concerned.

“What are you doing here anyway?” asks Rhona. And she knows it comes out wrong, defensive, but she’s in pain, and it’s Charity, and Charity has never been her friend anyway so what does it matter?

“It beats looking after the pub or the kids,” she says, half-joking. When it doesn’t get the response she hopes for, she sighs and says “Vanessa was feeling terrible about abandoning you in your hour of need.”

“So she forced you into keeping an eye on me?”

“Nobody forces me to do anything,” she says lightly. Too lightly. “Especially not Vanessa.”

Rhona snorts. “Vanessa doesn’t need to force you to do anything. Just has to bat her eyelashes and you’ll do whatever she says.”

Charity raises an eyebrow. “She told you that, did she?”

Rhona immediately regrets her comment. Not because of how pathetic it makes Charity sound (because she’s not worried about hurting Charity’s feelings), but because of how manipulative it makes Vanessa seem. Especially because Vanessa’s anything but manipulative. Vanessa’s one of the most honest people Rhona knows. Every feeling she’s ever had has been written vividly across her face. You know where you stand with Vanessa. Not like the mercurial Charity, who at this moment appears to actually be contemplating the value of what Rhona’s just said.

Rhona is just about to offer a half-hearted retraction of her words when Charity shakes her head firmly. “No, Ness wouldn’t tell you something like that. She wouldn’t even think it. She isn’t like that.”

“No,” Rhona agrees. “It was just an observation. Vanessa doesn’t need to say anything. I can see how you are with her. You’d do anything to keep her.”

Charity doesn’t say anything in response. Just looks at her steadily. Rhona feels warm under her gaze, and moves to throw the blanket off. Charity keeps looking at her, and Rhona is aware she’s waiting for something. Maybe an apology? Well she’ll have a bloody long wait. It’s not Rhona’s fault if Charity takes offence. What Rhona said was just a statement of the facts. The entire village can see Charity’s whipped when it comes to Vanessa.

Vanessa. The name sparks a sudden realisation. If Charity’s here in Vanessa’s stead, then—

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

“Has Vanessa…” Rhona hesitates awkwardly.

“Mentioned your painkillers?” supplies Charity, easily. Rhona nods uncomfortably.

“Yep.” She pats her jacket pocket. “Got them right here.”

Rhona looks at her speculatively. Vanessa likes to do everything just right, down to the second, but with Charity there’s a chance...

Rhona hates herself for it, but she can’t help but say, “You gonna hand them over to me then?”

Charity glances at the clock on the mantelpiece. “It’s two fifteen,” she says calmly.

Rhona follows her eyes. “So I’m about due then,” she says, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.

“Yeah, at two forty.”

“Two fifteen, two forty, what’s the difference?”

“Nothing if you’re an addict,” comes the swift reply.

“I need them!” she says, only it comes out high pitched and desperate. “I need them,” she says again, forcing her voice to sound as normal as possible. “I’m in pain. Seriously.”

“I know. And you can have your pills.” Rhona smiles gratefully. “At two forty.”

The smile slips off her lips and she smacks her hand down on the couch in frustration.

“Since when did you start playing by the rules?”

“I don’t. But Ness does, so…” she gestures between them “...here we are.”

Rhona rolls her eyes grumpily. The next twenty five minutes are going to be hell.

They have nothing to say to one another - they never have really, they’ve never been friends - so Charity sits down again and goes back to her phone. Rhona remains on the couch, arms folded like a petulant child, watching the clock. She can’t concentrate. Her whole body feels itchy, there’s a dull ache starting up behind her left eye, and her side is burning in a way that makes her want to rip off her skin. She chances a look at Charity, who is still engrossed in her phone.

Rhona briefly considers using her own phone to pass the time, but the thought of all the messages awaiting her - curiosity, concern, sympathy - leaves her cold. She feels an irrational stab of jealousy at the way Charity can switch off from the rest of the world and immerse herself in whatever it is she’s looking at.

“Looking at anything interesting?”

Charity jerks her head upwards and something like embarrassment clouds her eyes. She hesitates, as though weighing up her options, and Rhona wonders if Charity’s going to lie to her face.

“I’m catching up on some reading,” she says evenly, eyes daring Rhona to laugh. On the back of Rhona’s confused expression she adds, “I’ve got an app. To download and read books.”

“Oh. Right.” Rhona’s sure she must look as disbelieving as she sounds. “I didn’t know—“

“— I could read?” Charity’s eyes flash with what might be anger and Rhona remembers all the times she’s seen Charity go off on someone at the pub.

“No!” Rhona back-pedals furiously. “Obviously you _can_ read. I just didn’t know you liked to.”

It’s not the smoothest thing Rhona’s ever said but it works. Charity turns down the intensity of her glare a few notches. She’s still looking at Rhona with more aggression than the vet generally cares for in her own living room, so Rhona tries to defuse the situation with a question.

“What are you reading? Anything I might have heard of?”

Charity gives Rhona a hard stare until she’s sure the answer won’t be laughed at. ” _The Turn of the Screw_.”

Rhona nods, nonplussed. If she’d ever given thought to what Charity likes to read (she hadn’t), she’d have assumed chick lit or a trashy biography.

“Do you often read on your phone?” This is the most ridiculous conversation to be having with Charity Dingle, of all people, but Rhona’s suddenly dying to know more.

“Nah. No time, what with the kids and the pub. Most of my reading is done in bed. Ness got me a kindle for my birthday. I only use the phone in dire emergencies like this.” She winks.

“A kindle?” The world has gone mad, surely.

“Yep.”

“A kindle?” she says again. “Really?”

“Best present ever,” says Charity firmly. “I can access pretty much any book I want. It’s backlit so I don’t need to keep the light on and disturb Ness’s beauty sleep. And, I can increase the font size- no squinting and no Ness on my case complaining I need my eyes tested.” She’s actually being serious.

Rhona can’t imagine buying Charity a kindle. To be fair, she can’t imagine buying Charity anything, but it’s not like they’re friends or anything, so why would she? Okay, okay, Charity is her best friend’s girlfriend. Fiancée actually. Maybe even one day wife, if they ever get there. If they do, then Rhona will definitely have to get her a present. You can’t refuse to acknowledge your best friend’s wife, can you?

Charity sighs, bringing Rhona out of her musings. “Has the thought of me reading a book broken your brain?”

“No, no. I just… if you’d asked me to guess what Vanessa got you for your birthday then I’d never have guessed a kindle. Not in a thousand guesses.”

“What would you have guessed then?” Charity looks vaguely interested, in spite of herself. “What would you expected Vanessa to get me?”

Put on the spot, Rhona’s mind is a blank. What does she know about Charity, a woman she’s lived in such close proximity to for years. What does Charity even like?

 _Money?_ Too impersonal.  
_Alcohol?_ No, she runs a pub.  
_Being a bitch?_ Can’t really wrap that up in a bow.

“Lingerie,” she says finally.

“Lingerie?” Charity looks almost disappointed by the guess, like it’s confirmed something she’s always suspected about Rhona.

“For her,” she clarifies quickly. “Lingerie for her.”

“Ohhhh,” a twinkle flashes in Charity’s eye. “Like a ‘come upstairs and unwrap your present’ type thing?” She grins lasciviously and Rhona feels like she’s passed a test she hadn’t even realised she was taking.

Charity gets lost in a memory (or a fantasy- with Charity is there much difference?) for a few moments, and then says, with a smile in her voice, “You were half-right.”

“Half-right?”

“The kindle wasn’t the only gift. There was lingerie too. But I couldn’t wait to get upstairs before the _unwrapping_ began.” She grins again and Rhona feels her cheeks reddening, which makes Charity grin wider.

“Please, no more details.” Rhona holds up her hand in a stop gesture. “She’s my best friend. I do not need to hear this.”

Charity sniggers, but she complies by settling back down in her chair and saying nothing else.

They sit in silence for a few moments, but it’s awkward again because they aren’t friends and haven’t earned the kind of familiarity that leads to comfort in each other’s company. Rhona sneaks a glance at the clock and sees only five minutes have elapsed since she last looked. She briefly contemplates the likelihood of the clock being broken, but she knows it’s not true. It’s just time itself mocking her. She adjusts her position slightly, and it makes her side burn more ferociously. She exhales sharply. Charity says nothing. And it infuriates her. Charity can see she’s in pain, but can’t be bothered to offer her a pill to provide some relief. Really, what difference does a poxy twenty minutes make? Like Charity’s never broken a rule before. Vanessa she could understand- she’s a goody two-shoes. But Charity’s meant to give no fucks and live in the moment. In her misery, Rhona has a sudden urge to say something that’ll shake Charity up and wrest the smirk from her lips. A few thoughts flash through her mind before she settles on something that she’s sure will have the desired effect.

“Things going well between you and Vanessa?”

“Yes. Why? Has someone said something?” Charity’s hackles are up. She can sense something has shifted.

“No, I was just making conversation. As far as I know, Vanessa’s very happy.”

Charity nods uneasily.

Rhona nods to Charity’s hand. “I’m surprised she hasn’t got round to getting you an engagement ring yet.” If Charity figures out what Rhona’s trying to do then it won’t work, so she tries hard to sound casual, like she’s not trying to provoke a reaction.

Charity looks at her own bare hand for a moment, as if surprised by the comment, but then her expression lifts and she says, “I’ve told her I don’t want one.”

“Why not? Too hard to flirt with the punters with a ring on your finger?” The second she says it, Rhona worries she’s gone too far and sounds too bitter. But if Charity notices then she doesn’t show it. She answers the question earnestly.

“A ring doesn’t really mean that much to me. I’ve had more than my fair share of engagement rings already. Big, small, flashy, subtle. I’ve done it all. But that experience has taught me that the ring isn’t the important thing.”

“Then what is?”

“The marriage itself.” Sentiments like that don’t suit Charity. They sound trite falling from her lips. But she looks genuine enough, her eyes open and clear.

“Why did you propose to her?” Rhona’s not sure why but she’s suddenly curious to hear Charity’s answer.

A mean thought flashes into Rhona’s mind but she can’t bring herself to say it. She’s been mean enough already. Rhona would call her own behaviour out of character, but she knows this is a part of her that comes out with her addiction.

Charity must sense the hesitation and what’s behind it, because although she narrows her eyes, she says softly, “spit it out.”

“Was it…” Rhona hesitates before taking a breath and saying in a sudden rush on the exhale, “was it just a panicked reaction to the stabbing?”

For a few moments the only sound in the room is the clock ticking on the mantelpiece, which seems to be beating the same tattoo as the pain in Rhona’s side. She shifts herself again, but she can’t seem to find a position that’s anything less than agonising. She closes her eyes tightly, wishing she could blink herself out of existence, and is so focused on the pain that she doesn’t even realise Charity is speaking at first.

“Well, it took a while, but there it is.”

“What’s that?” Rhona opens her eyes and looks at Charity and almost shrinks back at the anger she sees turned full force on her.

“I always knew you didn’t approve of me.” Despite what she’s saying, Charity’s voice is low and silky. “Suppose I should be glad you’re finally being honest about it.”

“I didn’t mean-“

“-Don’t.” Charity cuts her off sharply. “We both know what you mean. You reckon Charity Dingle, patron saint of mistakes, has made another spur-of-the-moment bad decision without thinking through the consequences.” Without warning, she launches herself out of the chair and stalks over to the window, glaring out of it like the world offends her.

“Why does everyone hold me to standards that don’t apply to anyone else?” She addresses it to the window, her back to Rhona. “Why do I not get the benefit of the doubt?” She spins around and faces Rhona, anger coming off her in waves. “Three times I’ve been married.” She counts off on her fingers. “Chris, Jai, Declan. Some bad decisions there, I grant you. I thought I could grow to love Chris, and for a while I almost did. Until Debbie and Cain and the past caught up with me. Jai I thought loved me. He was different. Well, he seemed different until he wasn’t, and he copped off with another woman and had a secret kid. And Declan…” she laughs mirthlessly. “Declan was a total disaster.”

Rhona watches her carefully, saying nothing.

“Every time I express an interest in anyone, this village assumes it’s going to end in a disaster of my own making. And that my only motive is to get what I can.”

Rhona can’t argue with that. It’s a bang-on assessment.

“What I don’t get though, is why everyone else escapes the judgment.” She looks genuinely mystified as she turns to Rhona for an answer.

“How do you mean?”

“How many times has Marlon been married? Tricia, Donna, Laurel, The Demon Headmaster. And did anyone express any doubts about him marrying wife number 4? Nope. It was treated like some big love story.” She rolls her eyes. “And Paddy. He’s been up the aisle three times, hasn’t he? Our Mandy, Emily, you. Don’t hear anyone suggesting he might be making yet another mistake with our Chas though.” She snorts scornfully.

There’s something about the injustice of it all that prompts Rhona want to offer up her own confession.

“I’ve been married three times as well,” she says, aware that she might be making the situation worse.

Charity narrows her eyes. “Eh?”

“Yeah. You know about Paddy and Pierce. But I was married once before that, years ago. His name was Paul. Didn’t last long. Eighteen months between the first date and the divorce papers getting drawn up.” She shakes her head at the memory. “We were too… too a lot of things. Too young. Too foolish. Moving too fast. Vanessa knew I was making a mistake. Tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen. Thought I knew better.”

“She’s a good judge of character,” comes the response. “She can always spot a wrong ‘un a mile off.” Charity frowns, almost daring Rhona to say differently, but Rhona nods to acknowledge the truth of what she’s said.

“I thought I’d got it right though, when I married Paddy. Right up until I found about the affair. And Pierce - well, the less said about Pierce the better.” She grimaces with the memory.

Charity softens slightly. “What happened with Pierce - you didn’t deserve that. No one does.”

“No. It never leaves you though.” She looks back at Charity. “You know that better than anyone.”

Charity nods. “Yeah, I do.” The anger has dissipated now, but her eyes are still stormy.

“Vanessa saw through him as well. Had him pegged the second she met him. Why didn’t I listen to her?” Looking back, Rhona doesn’t understand herself. Why did she choose a man she didn’t know over her best friend?

“Because he was cunning. He hid himself well. Seemed charming and respectable. Put on a good front. Managed to gloss over the evil underneath. And you didn’t know any better.” Rhona wonders whether it’s still Pierce that Charity’s referring to. “Sometimes I wonder though. If Ness is such a good judge of character then what the hell’s she doing with me?”

Rhona tilts her head and looks at Charity for a long moment. “Maybe she’s doing what she always does. Seeing something the rest of us can’t.” Charity drops her gaze, uncertain if Rhona’s insulting her or complimenting her. Rhona’s not completely sure herself if she’s honest. Painfully aware of the tension in the room, Rhona offers up what she hopes is a conciliatory smile and says, “You’re right though. About the village holding you to a different standard to everyone else. They do. We all do. I don’t know why really.”

Charity’s eyes flick back to her. “‘Cos I’m an ex-prostitute. A slag. I’m dirty and damaged, so how could I possibly know what real love is?” The bitterness is back, albeit diluted.

“You love Vanessa.” It’s a statement, not a question, and the mere mention of Vanessa’s name brings a warmth to her eyes.

“I do, yeah.” Charity lets out a deep sigh and makes her way over to the sofa. “Budge up.” Rhona complies, surprised when Charity sits down next to her.

Charity sinks into the cushions and then turns to face Rhona. “So. Paul, Paddy, Pierce. And now Pete. You got a thing for blokes with names beginning with ‘P’? Is Pollard next on your list?”

Rhona can’t help the laugh that bubbles out. “Oh god no.”

“Maybe someone should warn Pearl,” she suggests mockingly.

Rhona laughs again, the first real laughter she’s had since the accident. The movement causes an ache, but it’s almost nice to be aching for a good reason. “Vanessa is always going on about how funny you are.” She offers a smile to Charity. “Funny ha-ha, not funny weird. I think she might be right.”

Rhona can almost predict the response, and it comes as expected: “I’m always hilarious.”

“Hilarious? Try mean.”

“Whatever. Doesn’t mean it’s not funny just cos you don’t appreciate it.” She huffs but it’s clearly only for effect. There’s no malice there. Rhona tries to remember whether she and Charity have ever had a one to one conversation before; whether they’ve ever shared a joke. All she can recall is sarcastic jibes while Charity poured her drinks. She wonders what Charity would be like as a friend. It’s unimaginable: what it would be like to say something meaningful to Charity and get real sincerity back.

When she looks again at Charity, she’s surprised to see a look of indecision on her face.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I never answered your question,” Charity says.

“My question?”

“About why I proposed.”

Rhona flushes. “I shouldn’t have asked,” she says quickly, regretting having steered them into this conversation in the first place and risking the fragile peace between them.

“You’re worried about Vanessa. You don’t want her to get hurt. I get that.” Charity plays with the edge of the blanket that’s been pushed off Rhona and dumped between them. “How did you feel when you heard Vanessa had been stabbed?” she asks suddenly.

“I was terrified,” Rhona says quietly. “I can still remember Paddy telling me. It didn’t seem real. But her blood - he’d washed it off his hands, but he’d got some on his shirt.” She shuddered at the memory. “And I could see from his face that it was bad.”

“We’d had a fight. A stupid fight over something ridiculously petty. Said some things we didn’t mean. And she stormed off. Next thing I know, I’m getting a phone call from her that doesn’t make any sense. All I could make out was something about her being outside. So I went out and-“ she stops, unable to finish her thought. “She looked awful,” she breathes out. “But the only thing she was worried about was Johnny. Insisted I go and find him.” She won’t meet Rhona’s gaze now, keeps fiddling with a loose thread. “I didn’t want to. I wanted to go to the hospital with her, but she insisted.”

“You saved him,” says Rhona with a small smile.

“I was in the right place at the right time,” comes the dismissive response. “In some ways, it was a blessing. Looking for Johnny gave me something to focus on other than Vanessa. It was like this mantra in my head, Find Johnny-Find Johnny-Find Johnny. And then get him back to his mum.” She bites her lip. “When I got to the hospital and they told me she needed more surgery… I thought my world was ending, that this was it. I’d had my five minutes of happiness and it was time to go back to real life.” She blinks back a sudden onslaught of tears, rubs her eyes roughly with a shaking hand.

Rhona isn’t sure what to do. She’d reach out if it was anyone else, if she wasn’t almost trapped in position by the pain, if she thought Charity wouldn’t respond angrily, if she and Charity were friends. So she stays where she is and says nothing and does nothing and feels like a coward.

After what feels like an eternity, Charity regains her composure. “That first night she spent in the hospital, when the worst of it was over, I didn’t sleep a wink,” she says eventually. “Kept playing things over in my head. Thinking about how much I loved her. Whether I’d told her enough. Whether she knew. And you know what the worst bit was?” She doesn’t wait for Rhona to answer. “I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure if she really knew just how I felt.”

“She knew.” The words surprise Rhona almost as much as Charity. “She knows. She always says…” she catches herself in what she’s about to say, and then forges on anyway. “She says she knows you. That you can’t hide anything from her. That there’s a connection between you she’s never had with anyone else. She gets you.”

A small smile ghosts Charity’s lips. “That’s why I had to propose. I needed to be sure she knew how I felt. How I still feel.”

“Was it nerve-wracking?”

“Proposing?” Charity quirks a smile in Rhona’s direction. “Terrifying. You saw how much I screwed it up.” She chuckles ruefully.

“The first time,” corrects Rhona. Charity looks up in surprise.

“Huh?”

“Things didn’t go so well the first time. But whatever you did the second time obviously worked.”  
“Whatever I did? Did Vanessa not tell you what happened?”

Rhona shakes her head. “She told me it was perfect, but she didn’t go into details. Said it was a private moment between the two of you.”

If she’s honest with herself, this is why Rhona doesn’t like Charity. Because of the distance she’s putting between Rhona and her best friend. Vanessa never used to keep things from her. Rhona has heard about every last one of her drunken hook-ups and ill-fated flings. All the details of her relationship with Kirin. Her pregnancy. Finding a sister she never knew she had. Reuniting with her dad. But since Charity, she’s been pulling away. Not a lot - she’s been hovering around Rhona ever since the accident, and she’s always willing to have a girly chat or discuss whatever’s going on - but there’s a barrier now that wasn’t there before. Vanessa has a life with someone else. And someone else gets to hear all her secrets, and take away her pain, and put a smile on her face. And Rhona knows she should be happy for her friend, should celebrate the fact that she’s found someone that makes her so very happy, but Rhona’s in pain, and she’s vulnerable, and her best friend is slipping away, and she can’t do anything except watch.

“I wasn’t very eloquent,” Charity says, pulling Rhona back into the moment. “But I asked the question. And she said yes. Without hesitation.” Even now, she marvels at how readily Vanessa agreed.

“And so now you’re getting married.”

“Yep.”

“Vanessa’s excited.”

Charity rolls her eyes.

“Aren’t you?”

“Why would I be? I’ve had enough weddings to last me several lifetimes.” She shifts a little closer, as though imparting a secret. “To be honest I’m more excited about the marriage.”

“The marriage?”

“Yeah. I can’t wait.” She grins. “Maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong all this time. Searching for a husband when what I really needed was a wife.”

“So you think you’ll get it right this time?”

Charity raises an eyebrow. Rhona’s obviously not hidden the tone of her voice as well as she hopes. “I hope so. I’ve made a good start with this one anyway. Didn’t propose for money- the way the Vet’s Practice is going, I might be bringing more cash to the table than Ness.” Rhona winces, but Charity ignores it and continues. “Didn’t propose to make a point, or solve a problem, or for the sake of a scam. Didn’t even propose out of revenge. So yeah, I think I might just be onto a winner with this one. Besides, I’ve got a secret weapon this time.”

“And what’s that?” She can’t imagine what the answer might be: a pile of cash? Some diabolical scheme?

“Ness.”

“Vanessa?” Rhona is shocked.

“Yep. Ness is my secret weapon. I might have been married before, but I ain’t ever been married to her. And I reckon that might just make all the difference in the world.” She sits back, pleased with herself, a dreamy smile on her face.

It’s the same dazed look she’s seen on Vanessa’s face a million times: when Charity smiles at her from across the bar; when she gets an unexpected text and doesn’t say who it’s from but sends a reply with a dopey smile on her face; when Charity says or does anything at all. Rhona loves Pete, or at least she thinks she does, but they’ve never had that thing that Vanessa and Charity have. That undefinable ‘rightness’. Rhona doesn’t think she’s ever had that with anyone, and all of a sudden the pain in her side is not match for her loneliness. She’s jealous, she realises. She wants the desperate kind of love that Charity and Vanessa have.

“Here.” Charity reaches over and hands her a pill. “It’s time.” She nods to the clock and Rhona follows her gaze, seeing, with a shock, that it’s now two forty. Rhona stares at the pill in the palm of her hand. It’s almost too embarrassing to take it in front of Charity, but Charity must realise that herself because she says loudly “I’m parched. Fancy a brew?” and is up and heading toward the kitchen before Rhona has a chance to say ‘yes.’ The thought of eating or drinking anything makes her feel slightly nauseous but Rhona’s glad for a break from Charity’s penetrating gaze. She stares at the pill in her hand. So tiny, and yet so powerful. She throws it into her mouth and swallows it with a gulp of water from the glass alongside her. The first few moments after taking a pill, when she worries whether it’ll have any effect at all or whether the agony will continue unabated, is always the worst. Rhona runs a hand through her hair and wonders if she looks as awful as she feels. She can hear Charity moving around the kitchen, and in what seems like an unfeasibly short time later, Charity is back in the room again, balancing two mugs. She hands one to Rhona, saying “here”.

Rhona stares at the liquid dubiously.

“Don’t worry I haven’t poisoned it.”

Rhona reddens and shakes her head quickly. “I didn’t think—“

Charity cuts her off with a laugh, so Rhona tries to put an end to the awkwardness by drinking.

She can’t help the contented sigh that escapes her lips. “Perfect. How did you know how I like it?”

Charity shrugs carelessly. “You’ve had about a thousand cuppas at the pub, made by yours truly. It would be more impressive if I’d managed to forget what you like.”

Ah, the famous Charity Dingle Deflection. She’s heard about this from Vanessa; Charity’s total and complete inability to acknowledge a compliment from anyone. It’s strange really. Charity normally gives the impression of being boastful: playing up how irresistible she is; how funny; how strong. But try to give her a genuine compliment and she won’t accept it. Charity either throws it back in the compliment-giver’s face or undercuts whatever has prompted the compliment with a flippant comment. With a sudden jolt, Rhona realises that despite the bravado, the cockiness, the ready wit, all the things that come to mind when Charity’s name is mentioned, Charity doesn’t like herself.

Now that the realisation has hit her, Rhona can’t understand why she’s never seen this before. She feels like she did after Paddy confessed his affair; when ‘I didn’t know’ became ‘How did I not know?’. It’s obvious. She thinks back to the conversation they’ve been having: Charity’s momentary embarrassment at admitting she was reading; the way her face fell when Rhona’s birthday gift guess was lingerie; how the villagers’ judgments of her past weighed so heavily on her (more heavily than Rhona would ever have guessed); the fact that Charity so clearly blamed herself for everything; that she saw herself as somehow less than everyone else. Charity lashes out: it’s what she’s known for. But Rhona hasn’t ever realised before now how much insecurity has been driving it. And the really sad part is that Charity doesn’t need to be like this. You can trace everything bad that’s happened to her from her terrible childhood, a ripple of turmoil engulfing her.

Back when the Bails trial took place, Rhona read all the details in the paper even though she’d made a show of supporting Charity. Well, no, she hadn’t really supported Charity at all. She hadn’t known what to say or do, because Charity wasn’t her friend, and she had a way of throwing kindness back at people that made Rhona shrink back from even trying. She’d supported Vanessa though. Offering her a shoulder to cry on, a friendly ear to listen. When the details came out in the press, Vanessa was devastated. She knew how much Charity was dreading everyone knowing. So Rhona very deliberately didn’t buy a newspaper when she was at David’s. Later that day though, on her way back from a callout in Hotten, she’d popped into the supermarket to grab a few bits. When she saw the newspapers by the door she couldn’t resist. Bought one, hid it in her shopping bag and read it in the car park surreptitiously.

The details were worse than Rhona could have imagined. She’d stopped reading at several points to take a deep breath and force away memories of her own abuse. But reading it left a stain on her conscience. And afterwards, she’d felt guilty for betraying Vanessa. (Vanessa? Why not Charity?) So she’d scrunched up the newspaper, the evidence of her betrayal, and tossed it in the bin, and the next time she saw Vanessa she pasted on a supportive smile and tried to forget what she’d done.

Rhona can’t help but wonder now: is she really any better than Charity? At least Charity’s crimes are all out in the open. Rhona prefers her shames to remain in the dark. Rhona tries to display a veneer of goodness, hiding the darkest things she’s done, but Charity moves in the other direction. Over and over again, even today, Charity tries to paint herself as the worst. Like the way Charity explained exactly where Vanessa and Paddy were, while simultaneously giving off the impression that she hadn’t been listening; downplaying her decision to play nursemaid to Rhona as as way to skive off work and avoid the kids; her insistence that Rhona wait until the allotted time to take her pills - played off as an excuse to be a bitch; ducking into the kitchen to give Rhona the privacy she needed to take her medication and pretending it was due to thirst. Rhona wonders if it’s her way of softening the blows from others. If she gets in first and draws attention to how awful she is, then maybe it doesn’t hurt so much when other people agree with her.

Rhona doesn’t even know where to start to try and make amends. Doesn’t know whether Charity would want her to. But the silence is stretching out between them and she needs to say something, so she settles on “You make a good cup of tea.” Charity half-smiles. “Better than Vanessa.”

At that Charity snorts. “I don’t know how she has the gall to call that tea. More like milk with a dash of teabag.”

“Good job you’re around then.”

Charity raises an eyebrow. “To make tea?”

“To do whatever it is you do that makes her so happy.”

There’s a moment when Rhona thinks Charity is going to say something crude by way of comeback, but instead Charity looks away.

“Charity? You do know that, don’t you?” Charity doesn’t say anything. “You make her happy.” Charity shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Charity?”

Charity reluctantly looks back at Rhona. “What?” There’s no bark there, the word slipping out softly.  
“I’ve known Vanessa for…”, Rhona pauses to try and work out the maths. “Gosh, twenty five years? And for the first time ever, she’s being completely honest about what she wants. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. And that’s down to you. It’s all you.”

Charity scoffs. “Ness is a ball of sunshine. She’d be happy whatever.”

For a brief moment, Rhona wants to shake the woman opposite her and yell and scream and make her understand. But it takes years to undo patterns of thinking - if they can be undone at all - and Rhona knows she can’t expect Charity to just take a statement at face value. Not one from her anyway.

“Vanessa is very good at putting on a front. She has been ever since I’ve known her. At uni, she always had a smile on her face. But, she’s been through some stuff. A lot of stuff. She’s told you about her childhood?”

Charity nods. “You mean her mother? Yeah. Practically makes me look like mother of the year material.”

Rhona ignores the self-deprecation. “She grew up more or less on her own. And she’s been on her own - lonely -for a long time. I think-“ she hesitates. “I think that’s why she threw herself into so many relationships and flings. Trying to find someone who would really see her. You know?”

Charity nods.

“You see her. I know you do. She comes alive when you look at her.”

“She sees me,” comes the reply. Charity is looking at Rhona properly now, eyes boring into her, and Rhona is surprised to see the glistening of unshed tears. “People don’t ever really look at me. They think they do, but they’re not seeing me. Not really. They see whatever they think I represent. Bolshiness. Aggravation. Pettiness. Sex. Trouble.” Rhona almost breaks the eye contact, knowing she’s looked at Charity in that same way. But she forces herself to keep looking and listening. “But Ness sees me. And she doesn’t hate what she sees. She loves it. She loves me.” She laughs desperately. “God knows why, but she does.” She wipes at her eyes quickly. “She deserves better than me.” Rhona’s about to protest but she’s silenced by the look on Charity’s face. “She does. She’s worth a thousand of me. I mean, obviously, she’s got a screw loose to keep putting up with me, but hey,” she shrugs resignedly, “it’s working to my advantage so I’m not complaining.”  
Rhona shakes her head. “You judge yourself too harshly. You should try looking at yourself the way Vanessa does.”

As if on cue, Vanessa comes bursting through the connecting door to the vets. “Oh my god, I am so sorry it took so long.” She scurries into the living room. “I thought it was just gonna be a quick meeting but he had a thousand questions and I just couldn’t get rid of him.” She reaches the centre of the room and looks at her fiancée and best friend. “Everything okay?” She looks between the two women.

Charity answers with a “fine, babe,” but Vanessa checks Rhona for any sign of dissent. Seeing none, she relaxes a little and lowers herself onto the arm of Charity’s chair. “Rhona, I’m so sorry I had to dash off, but there was an emergency. I had to go to the—“

“Meeting with Porterfield. I know Charity said.”

“Paddy would have gone but—“

“There was a Parrot flu situation in Demdyke.”

Vanessa turned her head to her fiancée with a fond smile. “So you do listen when I talk!”

Charity shrugs, the same smile tugging at her lips. “Can’t help do anything but, babe.”

They’re looking at each other and Rhona can tell that something wordless is passing between them. She coughs to get their attention before asking, “How did it go anyway?”

Vanessa turns to face her. “Oh, good, yeah. He seemed really positive. Said he’ll get back to us with a decision first thing tomorrow.”

Rhona smiles tiredly. “That’s great news.”

Charity agrees, “Well done babe,” and Rhona can see Vanessa flushing with pride.

“Well I did my best.”

“He’d be mad not to pick you. You’re the best vet this side of the Pennines.”

“Oi! I’m sat right here,” Rhona protests jokingly.

Charity rolls her eyes. “And I suppose you’re the second best.”

“Second best? Wow. Well I suppose I should be grateful you think I’m better than Paddy.”

“Shit, I’d forgot about him. Third best then.”

Vanessa’s following the jokey interaction between the two women like she’s watching a tennis match, head flicking between the two of them.

“Right, what’s gone on with you two while I’ve been working?” Her eyes are narrowed, like she’s trying to work out a complex mystery.

Charity and Rhona glance at each other and then back at Vanessa.

“Nothing,” they say in unison.

Vanessa raises an eyebrow, then turns to Rhona. “Has this one been behaving?” She jerks a thumb in Charity’s direction.

“Babe! I’ve been delightful!”

“Delightful?”

Rhona barks a laugh, drawing their attention. Off Vanessa’s uncertainty, she offers a smile. “Actually, Charity’s been great. She’s been keeping me hydrated, sorted out my painkillers, and we’ve had a really good chat as well.”

Vanessa can’t help the genuine smile that spreads across her face. “See, didn’t I tell you she’s like a modern-day Florence Nightingale? She was so good with me when I was recovering.”

Charity stands up, uncomfortable. “You know what? Since you’re here now I might just head back to the pub. Probably a bunch of kids and drunks there that need me.”

“Okay,” Vanessa reaches for her hand. “I’ll be home in a bit, yeah?” They entwine fingers and Charity leans forward and kisses her forehead. Then Charity pulls her hand away and turns to Rhona.

“Rhona, hope you feel better soon. There’ll be a pint waiting for you the next time you come in to the pub.” And with that, she turns and leaves.

Vanessa watches her go with a stupid smile on her face.

“She really was...delightful,” Rhona says, and Vanessa turns back to her.

“Right, what happened while I was gone?”

Rhona shrugs. “We talked.”

“Talked?”

“Yeah. I reckon it might have been the first proper conversation we’ve ever had.”

“And?”

“And,” she pauses, unsure of how much to reveal. “We’ve reached an understanding. I think. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Vanessa keeps staring at her, steadily. It’s a different feeling from when Charity looks at her. When Charity stares it feels like she’s stripping off layers of skin, exposing what’s underneath. But even so, Rhona feels the pressure to provide answers. “She loves you so very much.”

Without warning, Vanessa’s eyes fill with tears. It’s been an afternoon of tears, thinks Rhona. When did she get so good at drawing them out of people?

“She said that?” Vanessa sounds almost disbelieving.

“She did. In fact, she said she can’t wait to be married to you.”

Vanessa nods to herself, a big smile on her face, like Rhona’s just handed her the moon.

“I wasn’t very kind to her today,” Rhona admits. “When I woke up from my nap, I was a bit surprised to see her here. And I was worried she was going to make things difficult for me. With the pills.”

Vanessa frowns and is about to rush to her fiancées defence, but Rhona holds up her hands.

“I was wrong. She was actually very kind to me. Kinder to me than I deserved anyway.”

“What happened?” Vanessa is biting her lip, afraid of what’s going to be said.

“I…” Rhona stops, then thinks of Charity, and how she owns all of her faults. “I tried to persuade her to give me my pills a bit early.”

Vanessa looks shocked.

“I was in pain, and I know it’s not an excuse, but I suppose I thought Charity might be more persuadable than you. I thought she’d be less invested in doing the right thing.”

Vanessa looks torn between offence on Charity’s behalf and desperate worry on Rhona’s.

“She did you proud though Vanessa. Wouldn’t stand for my nonsense. Played everything by the book.”

Vanessa lets out a long breath. “Oh, Rhona.” Her eyes are filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry for running out on you.”

“It’s not your fault.” She shrugs. “I’m an addict. Lying and scheming are part of the job description.” She puts her head in her hands, suddenly feeling so very tired. “I think, I think this needs to stop. You and the pills. I’m dragging you into my problems and I shouldn’t.”

“I’m your best friend.”

“I know. And that’s why I shouldn’t be involving you. It’s not fair to you or me. Tomorrow I’m going to speak to someone. An addiction counsellor. They can help me through this. Help me find another way.”

Vanessa walks over to Rhona and envelops her in a hug. “I’m still here for you okay. Whatever you need to get you through this.”,

Rhona returns the hug. They stay hugging like that for a while, neither one ready to move away.

When Vanessa finally pulls away, Rhona feels the emptiness immediately.

“You should go back to pub,” she says with less conviction than she aimed for.

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I won’t be. Pete’s due back any minute. Honestly, I’m fine.”

Vanessa knows she isn’t, and that she might not be for a very long time, but she’s willing to pretend if Rhona is.

“Yeah, okay. I suppose it’ll be nice to have a quiet night with Charity and the kids.” She stands up. “If you need anything at all, call me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Vanessa moves toward the door.

“Ness?”

She turns.

“Will you tell Charity-“. She pauses. It’s suddenly seems so important to find the right words. “Tell her thank you for today. And tell her that I think she’s absolutely right about her secret weapon.”


	2. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa reflects on Rhona's issues and tries to come to terms with her own difficult past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for ConfessionsofALawStudent who put the idea of a second chapter into my head - I hope this lives up to your expectations. :-)

Vanessa steps out of Rhona’s house, letting the door close behind her, and just stands there for a moment, uncertain. Her mind is still reeling from what Rhona’s told her; how close she’s come to relapsing. It’s almost too much to take in, and Vanessa feels like she needs a few minutes to herself to process this unexpected development. She looks onto the main road and debates her next move, shivering to herself despite the sunshine.

It’s at moments like this that Vanessa hates living at the pub. There was a time when, if she’d had a tough day and wanted to unwind, or a good day and wanted to celebrate, then she’d go to the Woolpack and have a drink. But that was before she’d fallen in love with Charity. Before Charity had fallen in love right back. It feels different now. The second she walks into the pub, Vanessa can tell whether or not Charity’s there; can feel her absence as keenly as she’s ever felt her presence. It’s been like this since the first time they slept together. Vanessa almost can’t remember all the hundreds - thousands - of times before then, when she was barely a blip on Charity’s radar. All she knows is now, when she can walk into a room and either recognise her fiancée’s absence or instantly become the centre of her attention. There isn’t a seat in the pub where Charity’s gaze can’t reach her and it’s as intoxicating as it is disquieting. Nobody has ever wanted Vanessa as ardently as Charity does. The intensity of Charity’s feelings sometimes leaves Vanessa feeling as though she can’t catch her breath. Even if Charity’s not behind the bar - if she’s changing a barrel down the cellar, skiving out the back, or sorting out the kids - Vanessa can still feel her presence in the building. She can never just sit and drink knowing that there are only a few feet separating her from Charity; knowing it would take only minutes to get away from the prying eyes of the pub customers and straight into her deepest fantasies. So now, when Vanessa wants to take a few minutes alone to just sit with what she’s heard, she doesn’t know where to go.

What about David’s? The thought occurs to her that she could pop in and have a quick glass of wine. Charity would be none the wiser; would just assume she was still chatting with Rhona. Hmm. No. Vanessa doesn’t particularly want to see David. She’d really liked him at one point. Thought he was a nice bloke. Until he showed his true colours during that horrible time with Phil and broke her sister’s heart. She hasn’t quite forgiven him for that. Vanessa might seem like the reasonable one when compared to Charity, but if someone she loves gets hurts then Vanessa holds onto a grudge like nobody’s business. She’s reached a point where she can speak civilly to David if they bump into one another, but she can’t bear the thought of spending time around him unnecessarily, watching him mooning after Maya like he’s an innocent who hasn’t left a trail of broken hearts and broken women in his wake.

Vanessa finds herself wandering over to the playground. It’s empty at this time of day, so she makes her way over to one of the swings and sits down. As she swings slowly, the thoughts that Vanessa’s been trying to ignore force their way through. _Rhona. Drugs. Relapse._ The words are circulating around her brain and she feels powerless. What is she going to do about her best friend? Rhona has said she’s going to handle things, but can Vanessa really trust that it’s going to happen? No. Rhona’s lied to her before where drugs are concerned. Just because Rhona is saying and doing the right things this time, it doesn’t mean that things are okay. Vanessa needs to follow up and check that Rhona’s following through on her promises. She’ll need to talk to Pete too. Make sure he knows what’s going on. And maybe she’ll need to say something to Marlon and Paddy? Ugh. Just the thought of going through all of this again makes her feel tense.

_Maybe I need to look on the bright side,_ she thinks. _It’s different this time, isn’t it?_ Because Rhona admitted that there’s a problem without any prompting. She hadn’t been backed into a corner this time.

Unless she’s lying.

The thought sits heavy on Vanessa’s chest as she tries to remember what Rhona said. _I tried to persuade her to give me my pills a bit early._ That’s what Rhona said. _A bit early._ That could mean anything - or nothing. How long is a bit early? Ten minutes? Half an hour? Longer? Maybe Rhona’s just being a bit over-sensitive because of what happened last time, and it’s all just a fuss over nothing.

Unless she’s lying.

Vanessa thinks back to how quickly Charity made her exit from Rhona’s, and the tension that was clear between her best friend and fiancée, and her mind floods with what-ifs. What if Rhona was minimising what actually happened? What if Charity saw or heard something terrible that confirms Rhona is deep in the throes of addiction? What if Rhona admitted she was struggling just to get in front of whatever Charity might have to say? Vanessa turns the possibilities over in her mind, but she keeps coming back to the same conclusion. The only two people that know what happened are Rhona and Charity. And she can’t trust Rhona’s version of events. It hurts to even think it, but Vanessa knows it’s true. As close as she is with Rhona, there’s a part of their friendship that’s never really recovered from Rhona’s first struggle with addiction. Yes, they’ve apologised to each other and made efforts to move on and practice forgiveness, but the truth is that there’s always been a slight crack in their relationship that they haven’t quite been able to paper over. It’s a trust thing, she thinks. Or a lack of trust thing. If Rhona ever seems anything other than totally normal, if she seems a bit down or a bit snappy, then Vanessa can’t help but wonder if her friend has started inching back towards the slippery slope. And the very worst part is, Rhona knows this. She can always see in Vanessa’s eyes that Vanessa isn’t quite sure whether or not to believe her, because Vanessa’s an open book. She can’t help herself, her emotions are always writ large across her face.

However she presents it, her thoughts keep taking her back to the same place. If Vanessa can’t speak to Rhona then the only other option is speaking to Charity. She’s not sure why, but that thought doesn’t offer her much comfort.

xxx

Johnny and Moses are in the midst of a game, talking nineteen to the dozen about dinosaurs and explosions, and Charity is sitting next to them on the living room floor, listening to them with apparent interest. The boys barely notice as the door opens and Vanessa walks in, but she captures Charity’s full attention almost immediately. As their eyes meet, the two women size each other up silently, warily, and a thousand unspoken words flit between them. It’s Charity who actually speaks first.

“All right babe?” A casual question, but one that Vanessa can sense is loaded with meaning.

“Yeah, fine.” Vanessa’s smile is just a fraction too tight, and Charity can see through her.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa shakes her head and glances at the boys. She doesn’t want to do this now, with them in the room.

Charity nods in apparent understanding and then, with fake cheeriness, says “we’ve been playing with dinosaurs, haven’t we boys?”

Moses and Johnny nod excitedly. “T-Rex is fighting the stegosaurus,” says Moses.

“He’s gonna bite him!” adds Johnny.

“Wow. That sounds too scary for me!” Vanessa’s trying to sound bright but she can hear the strain in her own tone. “Do you fancy a cuppa?” she asks, not waiting for an answer before she barrels into the kitchen and starts opening up cupboards.

She holds the kettle under the tap to fill it up. When she turns back around, to place the kettle back on its base, Charity is standing right behind her. Vanessa jumps involuntarily, and mentally curses her embarrassing skittishness. Charity tilts her head curiously but doesn’t say anything as the silence stretches out between the two women. Vanessa can feel Charity’s eyes raking over her, sure she’s trying to scan for damage below the surface. _Just say it,_ she thinks. _Ask her what happened with Rhona._ The words are stuck in her throat and she doesn’t know how to get them out. Doesn’t know if she wants to voice them. Once you say something out loud it’s hard to take it back. If she asks, then Charity will give her an answer. And she’s not sure she’s ready to hear it. If Charity tells the truth and confirms that Rhona really is struggling, then Vanessa’s not sure she’s ready for that blow. But if Charity lies to her…

Vanessa moves away suddenly, and opens the cupboards, looking at the contents but not really seeing anything. “I don’t know what to make the boys for tea. What did they have for lunch? Maybe they’d like pizza. Oh, but they had that yesterday. I could make spaghetti.” She’s rambling, she knows, but filling the silence with inane chatter feels so much easier than the alternative.

“I’ll give you a hand,” says Charity. And on any other night, Vanessa would laugh at the idea of Charity willingly helping with the cooking. But now, when Charity is here, offering, Vanessa can’t help but wonder if this is Charity doing penance. Paying the price for a mistake she’s going to make later.

“You don’t have to do that.” They’re being oddly polite with one another. Hesitant. And Vanessa hates it because this - barriers and walls - it’s not them. They’re always so honest with one another usually. She clears her throat. “Shouldn’t you be taking over from Chas?” Charity pauses mid-step, like she’s not sure how to do this particular dance because the script has been reversed. Normally it’s Charity deflecting and distracting, and Vanessa trying to push through for honesty and emotion.

“If you need me here…” Charity trails off, uncertain.

“No, you go. I’ll sort the boys. Don’t worry.” Charity shakes her head, as though worrying might be the only thing she’s planning on doing for the rest of the evening.

“Well, I won’t be late. It’s Chas’s turn to close up anyway.” Vanessa nods. “Are you, uh, are you going to have an early night?” The unspoken ' _will you be here later'_ stabs at Vanessa, making her feel guilty. She wants to say _'of course I’ll be here'_ or _'everything’s fine'_ but Vanessa knows it isn’t fine and she’s not going to be able to get any sleep with everything that’s on her mind.

“I’ll wait up for you,” she says softly.

Charity looks mildly relieved. “I should go,” she says, gesturing to the door. There’s a brief moment when she seems to be waiting for Vanessa to say something else, but Vanessa can’t find it in herself to dredge up a platitude. “Okay then.” Charity looks like she’s about to say something else, but then she bites her lip and the moment passes. “I’d better go,” she says reluctantly. Vanessa nods again, and Charity slowly walks over to the door. She looks back at Vanessa, before shaking her head and walking out.

The second Charity’s gone, Vanessa regrets letting her leave. She looks at the boys, who are still engrossed in their game, and feels a sense of panic rising in her. She quickly crosses to the door and opens it, poking her head out into the corridor. Charity is on her way to the bar, but stops and spins around when she hears Vanessa hiss her name.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa steps fully into the corridor, and pulls the door half-closed behind her, enough to stop the children from overhearing but leaving sufficient gap to keep an eye on them. Charity walks back towards her, closing the gap between them in a few large strides. “Babe, what’s the matter?”

Vanessa shakes her head. Her mouth has gone suddenly dry. “Nothing. I-“ There are so many things she wants to say. To ask. To talk about. But she can’t. Not now, when Charity’s about to face the rest of the world behind the bar. It wouldn’t be fair. So she swallows the words, and watches as something that looks suspiciously like disappointment wells up in Charity’s eyes. Charity makes to turn back to the bar when Vanessa grabs at her wrist. And before Charity can react or speak, Vanessa launches herself at her, planting a deep kiss on her lips. They kiss for what feels like hours, Vanessa pouring everything she has into it. Charity doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening, but her arms have slid around the small of Vanessa’s back, pulling her closer. When Vanessa finally pulls away, she can see that Charity feels the separation keenly, and almost wants to cry out.

“I’ll get someone to cover my shift. We can-“

Vanessa silences her with a shake of the head. “No, you go. Chas needs you.”

“You need me,” is the response, with the obvious inference that Vanessa’s needs are more important. And Vanessa loves her for that, but Vanessa is a people-pleaser at heart and she can’t put her own needs before anyone else’s; she can’t have more guilt weighing on her.

“It’s fine. Honestly. Go and help Chas. I’ll still be here when you get back.” Charity looks like she wants to protest, but Vanessa adds, “We’ll talk later.” After a pause during which Charity is silently mulling her options, reluctant agreement crosses her face.

xxx

It’s very late when Charity finally slips into the room, skin still damp from her shower, but Vanessa’s wide awake beneath the covers, staring up at the ceiling, the small lamp at her bedside casting the room in a dim orange glow. Neither woman says anything, but they’re both aware that it’s unusual for Vanessa to still be awake by the time Charity’s finished a closing shift. She’s normally out cold by ten o’clock, sleeping the deep sleep of the innocent. Charity slides in beside her and mirrors her position, flat on her back, gazing at the ceiling. Neither woman speaks for a few moments until Charity suddenly turns on her side, facing Vanessa.

“Sorry I’m so late. I ended up closing for Chas. She looked dead on her feet and I couldn’t just...” she trails off.

“It’s fine.” Charity looks at her sceptically, but Vanessa genuinely means it. She’s glad Charity’s stepping up and offering Chas support, even if a stubborn part of her wonders if the support would be offered to Charity if things were the other way around.

Charity lets out a long sigh. “Okay then. Out with it. What’s wrong?” she asks.

Vanessa looks at her. “I don’t honestly know.”

“Has Rhona said something?” A note of defensiveness has crept into Charity’s voice, as though she’s afraid she’s about to be accused of something, and Vanessa wonders whether it’s coming from a place of guilt.

Vanessa burrows deeper under the protective layer of the quilt and turns toward her. “After you left, Rhona told me she’s struggling. With the addiction.”

Charity’s mouth forms an ‘oh’ but she doesn’t say anything.

“She’s in a bad place. Were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what exactly?”

“That she was trying to get her pills early. That she was going down that path again?”

“I’m not here to keep Rhona’s secrets,” Charity snaps back.

“Nobody’s asking you to. I just thought you’d have told me.” She’s trying but she can’t keep the edge out of her voice.

Charity snorts derisively. “Nothing to tell. She woke up in a bad mood and thought she could try it on. That’s all.”

“That’s all? Charity, she’s an addict. If she’s slipping back into those kind of behaviours then I need to know.”

Charity huffs. “You need to know? Why? You’re not her bloody keeper!”

Vanessa can feel her blood starting to boil. It’s always two steps forward and one step back with Charity and Rhona. One minute they’re sharing a joke, the next they’re glaring across the bar at one another. A small voice inside wonders why, if they both love her as much as they claim to, they can’t make more of an effort to get along. She’d shout at them both if she could, bang their heads together, but Rhona’s not here right now, and Vanessa’s too scared to be as careful as she could be with her words.

“She’s my best friend! I can’t help her if I don’t know what’s going on. And to be honest with you, I’m not thrilled with my fiancée keeping secrets from me _again_.”

“Oh for god’s sake Vanessa. Am I not allowed to make a single mistake?” It’s a rhetorical question so she doesn’t pause to allow Vanessa to answer. “Fine. I should have told you. I should have blurted it out in front of Rhona herself and embarrassed her. Or perhaps I should have told you in front of the boys? Maybe I could have yelled it across the bar and made sure the whole village knew.”

Vanessa closes her eyes in frustration. “Okay, I get it. You’re right. There wasn’t an opportunity to tell me before now.” She opens her eyes again and sees Charity has turned away to face the ceiling, body vibrating with scarcely concealed irritation. “Charity,” Vanessa reaches across the bed for her fiancee’s hand. Charity doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t sink into the contact either. “Charity,” she tries again. “I’m frightened.”

Charity shifts slightly. “What of?”

“What’s going to happen to Rhona.”

Charity lets out a deep breath and for a moment, Vanessa isn’t sure whether she’s just made things worse. But then Charity shifts a little more and says “come here.” She lifts their joined hands, giving Vanessa room to tuck herself closely into Charity’s side.

Vanessa closes the distance between them eagerly, needing the contact and comfort. She rests her head on Charity’s chest, her body pressed against the length of Charity’s. Vanessa can hear Charity’s steady heartbeat and feels herself slowly calming.

“She’s going to be fine.” Vanessa can feel the rumble of Charity’s words through her chest.

“Do you really think so?”

Charity gives as much of a shrug as is possible given her current position. “Probably. She’s got a lot of reasons to fight her way through this. Leo. Pete. You.”

“Me?”

“You’re her best friend,” she replies simply.

“It wasn’t enough last time.” Vanessa can’t help the petulant tone to her words.

“Wasn’t enough for who? You or her?” There’s an odd tone to her words and Vanessa stiffens in response.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She pushes herself off Charity and sits up, almost disbelieving that they’ve circled back to this same thing again. Charity rises, mimicking her position, but doesn’t answer. “Go on. Say whatever it is you’re thinking. Like I can’t guess.”

Charity doesn’t speak for several moments as she fiddles with the corner of her pillow. Then she says, without meeting Vanessa’s eyes, “What have you ever really told me about Rhona?”

“Eh?” It’s not what Vanessa expected her to say, so she feels the wind leaving her sails a little. “What d’you mean?” She feels like she might be getting herself into trouble, but she’s not quite sure what Charity’s getting at.

“Ever since we got together properly, you’ve encouraged me to open up to you. About Ryan, Bails, my Dad, Lisa. Everything. And I’ve tried really hard to be upfront with you and let you in.”

“I know. And I appreciate that.”

Green eyes snap back to Vanessa’s “But I don’t get the same back from you.”

The words settle heavily in Vanessa’s chest and she feels sick and panicky. “What do you mean? I’ve never lied to you,” she says hoarsely.

“It’s not about lying, Vanessa.” Somehow, hearing Charity use her full name is almost like a blow. “You might not lie to me, but you’re not being completely honest with me either. I mean, we’re engaged. We’re getting married. And yet in the entire time we’ve been together you’ve barely told me anything about your past. You’ve only mentioned your mother once. I know you and Rhona had some sort of thing the first time she was on drugs. But you’ve never talked to me about that either. And what about that whole Kirin debacle?” Vanessa swallows. Charity’s looking at her intently, and it feels like her eyes are burning into her skin. “For God’s sake!” Charity smacks her hand down on the mattress in frustration, and it causes Vanessa to jump. “How can I compete with all that shared history between you and Rhona, when you don’t tell me anything? Is it me? Am I the problem here? Do you not trust me? Am I not worthy enough to share all this with?”

Tears pool in Vanessa’s eyes. “Oh, Charity.” And then, without the rational part of her mind really knowing why, she dissolves into sobs. She brings her hands up to her face, both ashamed and not understanding why she’s reacting like this. She feels a shift of the mattress and is dimly aware that Charity must have stood up. _She’s leaving me,_ she thinks, as she hears soft footsteps. But even that thought, as terrible as it is, doesn’t compare to the awful knowing sadness that’s blooming in her chest. She can’t breathe, and she’s too hot, and she’s trapped, and then, as suddenly as she left the bed, Charity is back, sitting next to her, reaching for her and wrapping Vanessa in her arms, and the roaring in her ears starts to subside.

xxx

Vanessa looks at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are red-rimmed and she looks awful, face flushed and puffy from crying. The tears have stopped now, and she’s managed to wrestle back some control over herself, but she’s still feeling embarrassed over her display in the bedroom. She’s still not completely sure where it all came from (she knows where it’s come from but how can she say it out loud?), but Charity will want answers. It’s only fair, she supposes. If it was the other way around - if it had been Charity who had suddenly burst into tears - then Vanessa knows she wouldn’t just let it go. She’d keep pushing her until Charity felt trapped enough to let it all out. She turns on the tap and splashes some cold water over her face. The immediate shock of cold is quickly replaced by a feeling of relief as she rubs away the clammy, sticky feel of dried tears off her cheeks. When she’s done, having carefully washed every part of her face, the redness still remains, but Vanessa is only too aware that she’s just delaying her return to the bedroom. Turning off the tap, she reaches for a towel and pats her face dry. And then she looks at herself in the mirror once more and doesn’t like what she sees. She can feel the tears threatening to well again, but takes a deep breath and wills herself not to cry. After a few moments she thinks she’s back in control, before realising she’s holding the twisted towel in a death grip. Placing the towel back on the rail she opens the door, flicks off the light, and makes her way back to Charity.

The light is still on in their room. Vanessa can see it shining faintly under the closed door. As she gets nearer, she has to fight the sudden urge to knock and await permission to enter. Shaking her head, she slowly opens the door and walks in. Charity is standing by the window, curtain askew, looking out into the night. When Vanessa closes the door behind her with a soft click, Charity turns around. The two women look at each other warily. Vanessa’s waiting for Charity to start asking questions; but Charity’s waiting for something else. Maybe for Vanessa to offer an explanation, or a lie.

It’s Charity who eventually speaks first. “Remind me tomorrow to bar Dan Spencer.”

“What?”

“I just saw him taking a slash against our bins.” She gestures to the window behind her. “Filthy git.”

Vanessa stares at her. “Dan? What’s he doing out by the bins this late?” She shrugs disinterestedly. “He’s probably looking for somewhere to lay his head. I assume Kerry’s kicked him out. They haven’t been getting on very well recently have they?”

“I… I don’t know.” Vanessa picks her way through the conversation carefully. “I can’t say I pay much attention to Dan and Kerry. I didn’t think you did either.”

“Have you not seen they way they are around each other?”

_Where?_ Vanessa wants to ask. _Where would I have seen them?_ She’s probably spent less time talking to Kerry then she did to Charity, before the first time they slept together. Vanessa suddenly wonders if, in another life, she could have got together with Kerry; if there was enough loneliness and alcohol in the world for that to happen.

“They can barely talk to one another. The tension is embarrassing.”

Refocusing on what Charity’s saying, Vanessa wonders if it’s still Dan and Kerry that she’s talking about. She leans against the bedroom door and takes a breath. “Do you ever think,” she begins quietly. “about that night we got locked in the cellar? If it had gone differently. If either of us had got locked in with someone else… would the same thing have happened?”

“The same thing?” Charity tilts her head. “Well, knowing what I’m like, there’s a fair chance I might have kissed someone else if I’d ended up stuck with them.” She sits down heavily on the corner of the bed. “Depends who it was, obviously. I’m pretty certain I wouldn’t have snogged Moira.”

“I think I might have kissed someone else,” Vanessa says slowly, ignoring Charity’s raised eyebrow. “Maybe someone like Pete or Robert.”

“Robert?” Something that looks like jealousy blooms on Charity’s face, and Vanessa can’t help but feel slightly gratified. “A bloke,” she clarifies. “Not a woman though. I mean, I can’t imagine any of the other women in this village would have kissed me.”

“More fool them.”

“But it wouldn’t have ended in the same way,” she says firmly.

“No?” “No. I…” She pauses, trying to find the right words. “Why did you kiss me? That first time.”

“To shut you up, I suppose. You kept yammering on about how awful I was.”

Vanessa’s shoulders sink slightly. “Was that all it was?”

Charity looks up at her curiously, trying to understand what Vanessa’s getting at. “I don’t know. No.” She sighs and finally says, “you want to know why I kissed you? Okay. It was fifty per cent because I wanted to shut you up. It’s not my idea of a good time to be locked in a room with someone who can’t stand my presence. And who isn’t shy about telling me that.” Vanessa flushes. “It was twenty-five per cent to get back at you. Rattle your cage a bit because you’d got me stuck in your company.” She steals a look at Vanessa who seems dejected. “But the final twenty-five per cent was because you looked absolutely beautiful and, when I want something I go for it. And I just really, really wanted to go for it with you.”

Vanessa can’t help the blush that forms on her cheeks. She whispers, “are you just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”

“Nope.” Charity shakes her head. “I’m saying it because it’s true.” She leans back onto her palms. “Ness, we both know I can be as shallow as a toddler’s paddling pool. But I’m not blind. You really were beautiful that night. You always are.”

_Anyone can say things. It’s actions that count._

Vanessa can hear her mother’s warning ringing in her ears, but she ignores it. Everything Charity has ever done is more than enough proof of what she’s saying. The way she persuaded Vanessa into her bed over and over again; the way she couldn’t get enough of her; the way she still kisses and touches her. Vanessa knows Charity is deeply attracted to her. It’s been obvious since that very first kiss. And Vanessa knows that she could end this conversation right now, by just offering herself up to Charity, but she doesn’t need to prove the obvious to herself. She needs to prove it to Charity. And she can’t do that with sex. Not where Charity’s involved.

“After you kissed me that first time, I knew I was in trouble.” She wants to stop talking, push herself off the door and into Charity’s arms, but she needs to say this. “It just crystallised everything I’d always suspected about myself.”

She walks over to the dressing table and pulls out the little stool Charity sometimes sits on to apply her makeup. She moves it opposite Charity and sits down so that they’re close enough to talk without raising their voices.

“I told you before that I don’t talk to my mother because we had a big falling out.” Charity nods, wondering where this is going. “I told you about how controlling she was, and how I was always trying to live up to her impossible standards.” Charity nods again, sitting up straighter. “She hated my dad. I mean, really despised him. I don’t really remember a time when they weren’t at each other’s throats. They got divorced when I was five, after she caught him in bed with her best friend.” She grimaces at the memory. “After that, I didn’t really see much of him. He’d tell me that he was going to pick me up after school, or that we’d spend the weekend together, but nine times out of ten, he wouldn’t turn up. There was always an excuse: he was stuck in work; had to attend a meeting; dental appointment; car broke down.” She looks down at the floor. “All lies, probably.” She looks back up at Charity, and says, with more false bravado than anything else, “I mean, who has that many emergency dental appointments?”

Charity’s hands form fists, and Vanessa has no doubt that if Frank were to appear before them this instant, Charity would ensure he really did need a dentist.

“It suited mum though - him not turning up, I mean. Every time he let me down, she was there to remind me that he couldn’t be trusted. That I couldn’t believe a word he said.” A thousand memories - of being let down and condescended to - flood her mind and she shakes her head to get rid of them. “He kept letting me down over and over. Until one day the visits stopped completely. I must have been about fourteen by then.”

“What happened? Where did he go?”

Vanessa ponders. “I don’t know really. He said he was going away for a bit, for work. But I suppose that was a lie cos I don’t think he ever had a proper job. He might have been in prison. Or perhaps he was with Tracey and her mum, making the same mistakes over and over.” She worries at her lip. “All I know is I didn’t see him again after that until I was twenty and in uni. Mum always said I was better off without him anyway.”

“You don't think that was true, do you?”

Vanessa shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You missed him though.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Course I missed him - however rubbish he’s been, he’s still my dad. But eventually I started hating him.”

“Hate?” Charity can’t keep the surprise out of her voice. It’s understandable. Vanessa knows she’s always looked more innocent than she really is. She supposes she gets that from him.

“He abandoned me, Charity. You, of all people, must know how that feels? When your realise your family isn’t interested in you.” Vanessa can almost see the thoughts flitting across Charity’s mind, as she’s trying to reconcile her own mixed feelings about her family with the truth that Vanessa’s family might be just as screwed up; that Vanessa might not have lived the picture perfect life.

“Frank’s here now though.”

Vanessa snorts. “Yeah, playing dad now when I don’t need him. I love him, I do, but sometimes I just want to scream and tell him that he can’t make it up to me. That nothing he ever does will erase how awful it felt when I was a kid to realise my own dad couldn’t be bothered with me.” In that moment she looks utterly miserable, and Charity leans forward, placing a hand on her knee. Vanessa leans into the contact and goes on. “Do you think that makes me a bad person? Loving him and hating him like that?”

Charity softens. “No. Of course not. It’s totally understandable. It can be hard to separate someone from the things they’ve done.”

Vanessa wonders why she doesn’t find it hard with Charity. Maybe it’s because she’s never truly experienced the things that Charity’s done. She’s just heard about them, second-, third-, fourth-hand, when the gossip has done its round of the village. Or maybe it’s because, in spite of all that Charity is and has done, she speaks truth more freely than most in the village.

“I don’t think I trust him.” When she says the words, they seem as surprising to herself as they do to Charity. “How can I? Once a conman, always a conman. Right? He can lie as easily as breathing. And god knows, he’s lied to me enough over the years. It’s always his first reaction when he thinks he needs to smooth things over or make amends.” She shakes her head in frustration. “I hate lying. Hate it.”

“Duly noted.”

“No, I didn’t… I don’t mean you. You’re always honest with me. Sometimes brutally so.” Charity winces but Vanessa reaches out and cups her cheek. “No, I love your honesty. It’s one of my favourite things about you.” She scoffs and moves back. “Like I’ve got any room to talk. I lied to everyone - including myself - for twenty-odd years.” Charity frowns, but Vanessa goes on. “I’ve had,” she swallows and ducks her head awkwardly, pulling her hand away, “I’ve had feelings for women before.”

“Rhona, you mean?”

Vanessa looks back up at Charity, expecting to see more jealousy, but instead she sees concern. “No, I mean,” she exhales loudly. “When I was sixteen, I had a massive crush on this girl in my Maths class.” The words come out in a rush and hang there, as though Vanessa is waiting for some sort of reaction. Charity just keeps looking at her, levelly, calmly, like she already knows and none of it matters, and it’s simultaneously validating and terrifying. She starts speaking again. “Her name was Sam Lake. I thought she was so cool. She was one of the popular girls. We got off the bus at the same stop and walked up the hill together every day. It was my favourite part of the day.” Vanessa half-smiles at the memory.

“What happened?”

“I did something stupid.” Shame blooms on her face.

“What? What did you do?”

“I used to keep a diary. Nothing major. Where I’d been, what I’d done. All the stupid stuff that seems so important when you’re a kid.” She rubs at her eyes, feeling so tired.

“And?” Charity nods encouragingly.

“And, I wrote about Sam. Pages and pages about how beautiful she was, and how cool she was, and how much I liked her. You know, teenage crush stuff.” She looks down at the floor and her voice gets quieter. “I got home from school one day. Went up to my room, and pulled my diary out. I remember I opened it and-“ she falters and feels herself frown at the memory. “Pages had been ripped out. I didn’t understand at first what had happened. I was just flipping back and forth trying to make sense of it all. And then I knew.” She looks into Charity’s eyes, and feels like she’s sixteen again. “My mum must have been tidying my room and found my diary. Couldn’t resist taking a peek.” Charity is completely still, listening, waiting. “She saw what I’d written. Knew what it meant. So she tore out every single page where I’d mentioned Sam’s name. Every single page. As though removing the pages would somehow erase how I felt. Like it would stop me being… that way.”

Charity inhales sharply. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. Not a word. When she finally got home that evening she wouldn’t even look at me. She ignored me for weeks afterwards. She was ashamed of me.” The tears that have been threatening since she left the bathroom have now returned and are running softly down her cheeks. “I was ashamed of me too. And I didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. So I did the only thing I could think of. I stopped talking to Sam completely. Got off the bus a stop earlier to avoid her. Moved seats in Maths class. And I threw myself at any boy who showed me attention, to prove to myself that I could be normal.” She stops to choke back a sob.

“Ness, I…” Charity doesn’t know what to say: a rarity.

Vanessa’s throat hurts from trying and failing to hold back the tears, but she’s got this far so she may as well keep on going. “Eventually I got asked out by this boy in my year. Gavin Denton. I didn’t really like him in that way, but I thought maybe I could grow to if I gave him a chance. I remember he came to my house to pick me up - we were gonna catch a bus into town and see a film - and my mum answered the door. That night, when I got back home, was the first time she spoke to me since the diary incident. So I knew then. She never said it, and I never asked. But I knew: find a boy. Show interest in him. Be normal. That’s what I needed to do.” Vanessa swipes angrily at her tears, as though they’re the only evidence of her deep shame. “I lost my virginity to him an’ all. What a waste.” She forces a grim smile.

Charity is looking at her like she doesn’t know the woman in front of her, and Vanessa finds herself wishing she’d never started talking. “Jesus, Ness. How could you stand it?”

“I suppose you get used to it. You can get used to anything if you have to.”

“Like me and Bails, I suppose.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I would never compare my mother to Bails, to what you went through. I had it easy in comparison.”

“Did you? Really?”

“It got easier. Like I said, you get used to it. And after a while, I started thinking that Sam was just a blip. A stupid girl crush.”

“Did you and your mum ever talk about it afterwards?” Vanessa shakes her head. “Whenever we talked she’d always ask how things were. _Are you getting good grades? Are you eating properly? Have you got a boyfriend?_ Like she wanted to check that I was still behaving myself. We never talked about it, but I knew what she was doing. Reminding me not to slip up.”

Charity is clenching and unclenching her fists, looking around the room as though Vanessa’s mother night suddenly appear to try and defend herself. “But how could you stand it?”

Now that Charity’s asked, Vanessa isn’t sure she knows the answer herself. “I suppose I didn’t let myself think about it too much. It’s surprisingly easy to just go with the flow and do what everyone else wants you to do. And then, after a bit, you forget what you really wanted. Or you force yourself not to remember. Same difference really.” She shrugs.

“So you just… what? Ignored your feelings for women? For twenty years?” Charity sounds incredulous and Vanessa suddenly feels so foolish.

“I dunno.” Vanessa shakes her head. “I guess I just convinced myself that it didn’t matter. Plenty of straight women can find other women attractive. So I told myself I was just a straight woman who sometimes thought other women were attractive.” She stops and looks at Charity. “I’m well aware of how stupid this all sounds.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s just…” she trails off looking for the right word. “Sad.”

Vanessa echoes it back. “Sad?”

“You hid part of yourself for years. Yeah, I think that’s sad.”

“Sad pathetic?”

“No.” Charity shakes her head firmly. “I mean, it must have hurt, hiding yourself away like that.”

“I never let myself think about it.” To her obvious surprise, Vanessa allows herself a sad smile. “I couldn’t hide how I felt forever though.”

“Rhona?”

“Rhona, yeah.” She blushes, in spite of herself. “When I think back on it now, it’s like a weird fever dream. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Her eyes flick to Charity. “Rhona was in such a terrible state with her addiction that she ended up stealing drugs from the surgery. And I helped her cover it up.”

“Why?”

“I honestly don’t know. I suppose it started out as wanting to help her.” She chews her lip for a moment. “I was the only one who knew what was going on. She confided in me. Not Paddy or Marlon. Me. We had this big secret between us, and things just spiralled.”

“Did you love her?” Vanessa can see in Charity’s eyes how afraid she is of the answer.

“Of course I did. Do. She’s my best friend.” Vanessa can almost see Charity planning her retreat, so she grabs Charity’s hand. “Charity, it’s not what you think. I love her as my friend. But I’m not in love with her.” There are doubts in Charity’s eyes but she’s listening at least, so that’s something. “Look, I grew up stuck between two parents who hated each other and were just indifferent to me. I didn’t have any siblings. And there was this thing I kept hidden inside, which meant I kept people at arms’ length. I was lonely. And it felt good to have somebody depending on me. Needing me. I tried to help Rhona by rationing her drugs but she ended up taking advantage. Lying and flattering me to try and get more from me.” She feels Charity soften slightly. “We needed something from each other. She used me and I used her.” Vanessa’s never said that out loud before, and she’s surprised by how much the admission still stings.

“I’m surprised the two of you stayed friends. Must have been hard to go back to the way things were before.”

“It’s not the same now.” Vanessa sighs. “It couldn’t be. We’ve both seen the worst sides of each other.” She frowns. “She lied to me. About a lot of things. The amount of trouble she was in. How she felt about me. The trust between us isn’t the same. There’s a little part of me that doesn’t quite trust her now, because I’ve seen what she’s capable of. And I think there’s a little part of her that knows that.” She entwines her fingers around Charity’s.

“She told the truth this time though?”

Vanessa nods. “I think so, yeah.”

“So what’s next?”

“She said she’s going to speak to an addiction counsellor. Get some proper help.”

Charity nods slowly. “That’s good,” she says carefully.

“And she’s going to stop relying on me to dole out her medication.”

Charity lets out a long breath. “Thank god.” Off Vanessa’s look she adds “babe, you know being involved in all that again was a bad idea.” Vanessa wants to protest, remind Charity that Rhona’s her best friend, but she knows Charity’s got a point.

She moves off the chair and sits next to Charity on the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Charity seems genuinely confused.

“For keeping all this stuff from you. For demanding honesty from you and then not offering it back to you.” She lets out a long breath and says “she knows about you. My mum.” Charity looks at her, shocked. “I told her. After the trial. I’d watched you being so honest - it seemed only fair I did the same.”

“What did you… How did she…?” Vanessa can see Charity isn’t sure what to ask, or what answers she wants.

“I called her up and just blurted it out. I said “Mum, I’m gay. I’ve got a girlfriend and I love her and I’m happy.”

“Right.”

“She hung up on me.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, so I suppose I won’t be talking to her again. No real loss though, is it?”

For a few minutes neither woman says anything. They just sit there with the weight of everything that’s been said in between them. Vanessa feels exposed and afraid to say anything more, afraid to look Charity in the eye in case she sees disappointment, or worse, looking back at her.

“Well,” Charity begins, smoothing out the quilt beneath her. “you’ve more than made up for things on the honesty front tonight. And I appreciate everything you’ve told me, but-“ Vanessa’s stomach clenches. “I don’t understand.”

The words fill the room, and Vanessa feels like her heart might break. If Charity, of all people, doesn’t understand her how can this work between them?

“I don’t… I mean, your dad’s a conman and your mum’s a… she’s just appalling. I just don’t understand how those two fuck-ups managed to create someone as perfect as you.”

“What?” Vanessa’s head snaps up and she meets Charity’s gaze.

“You’re just so honest and kind and brave and beautiful and funny and lovely. And perfect.” Vanessa looks for a sign that Charity might be lying, but she can’t see anything other than truth, and feels herself start to blush.

“I’m not perfect, Charity. Not by a long chalk.”

“You are to me.”

“Oh god,” Vanessa can feel the tears coming again and half-sobs, half-laughs. “I’m so lucky,” she hiccups out finally.

“Are you? I mean, you’ve ended up living above a pub with me and a herd of kids. Not sure that tracks with any definition of lucky that I’ve ever heard.”

Vanessa definitely laughs this time. “Charity, I’ve spent twenty-five years hiding who I am. And then I met you. And I don’t have to hide anymore. Because you love me.”

“I do.” She nods in agreement as she brings Vanessa’s hands to her mouth and kisses them.

“And you don’t care.” “I… don’t care?” Her eyes narrow. “Of course I care, babe.”

“No, no. I know you care about me. I mean…” she sighs and tries to think of the words. “I don’t have to live up to any impossible standards with you. When we got together, you didn’t care that I didn’t have any experience with women before you. You didn’t care that I was a single mother. You didn’t care whether or not I was a vet.”

Charity shrugs. “Because none of it matters.”

“It matters to me. You’re probably the first person that’s ever taken the time to look at me - really look at me - and you just accept me for who I am.”

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes in the past. Maybe I’m finally getting things right this time.”

Vanessa smiles. “Maybe we both are.” They look at each other quietly, enjoying the quiet intimacy of sitting hand in hand for a few moments. And then a thought crosses Vanessa’s mind. “Rhona said the two of you had a nice chat earlier.”

Charity stiffens but forces her expression to remain neutral. “Uh, yeah. I suppose so.”

Vanessa shakes her head in wonder. “She said you practically declared your undying love for me.”

Charity raises an eyebrow, but sees the smirk slowly spreading itself across Vanessa’s face. “Oh did she?” She tries to act nonchalant but Vanessa can see the amusement in her eyes. “Those her exact words were they?”

“More or less. Why? You denying it?” Charity shakes her head. “Nope. Got me bang to rights guv.” She lets go of Vanessa hand and holds out her own in front of her, as though waiting to be handcuffed.

“She said something else too. That you can’t wait to be married to me.”

For a second, Charity falters, and Vanessa wonders if she’s going to deny it. But then she holds her hands out again. “Guilty as charged.” The determination in Charity’s voice is more than matched by the delight on Vanessa’s face.

“You really did say it then?”

“Of course.” Charity tilts her head and then reaches for Vanessa’s hands again. “Babe, you knew that anyway though, right?” She gently reaches up and pushes a lock of Vanessa’s hair behind her ear.

“Course, yeah.” Charity’s movements still. Vanessa sounds unconvinced, and she knows it. It’s the one thing Vanessa doesn’t have in common with her father: she’s not a good liar.

Charity moves back slightly, so can look Vanessa directly in the eyes. “I know I haven’t been as supportive about this wedding stuff as I could have been. And I’m truly sorry about that, because you deserve the world. And I’d give it to you if I could.” She pauses and brushes a stray tear off Vanessa’s cheek. “But the truth is, you’re right. I don’t care.” Vanessa thinks her heart might have stopped beating but Charity continues on, unperturbed. “I don’t care where we get married or how we get married or who sees us get married. Because it’s not important to me. I’d marry you anywhere. The only thing that matters to me is getting to call you my wife.” Vanessa melts. Charity is always claiming she’s terrible with words but she can be surprisingly romantic when she needs to be. “I still don’t understand what you see in me, and I probably never will, but I promise you: I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to live up to your expectations.”

And in that moment, Vanessa knows that it’s going to be okay. That every second of misery and suffering up to now has been worth it to get to this point with this woman.

“Live up to them?” Vanessa laughs and kisses her gently. “Oh Charity, you’ve already exceeded them. I’m living a life I never thought was possible.”


End file.
